Liars Like You and Me
by Ashlandra
Summary: Brooke Davis and Dean Winchester, enemies. Pure hatred, pure pleasure. What happens when emotions get involved into their drunken hook-ups?
1. Sex Toys

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**This story is full of angst, hate, drama, etc. I was making a mix tape today and listening to the songs inspired me with this idea. Basically, Brooke/Dean hate each other but hook up. Enemies with benefits, I guess. I'm going to make Brooke a hunter in this story so they'll have more of a background story on why they hate each other, which I have not figured out quite yet. Anyway, they sleep together a lot, blah blah blah blah, fight, and then they _slowwwwly _start to fall for each other, but neither will admit it for the longest time. And Brooke's parents are rich and control her life (like in the show) and their families get in the way of them opening up to each other. (This idea coming from the song Asshole Father by Sick Puppies. Amazing band, check 'em out!)**

**Title is from the song 'Photographs and Gasoline' by Framing Hanley.**

The stench of beer was heavy on his breath as he leaned in close to her face, lips only an inch apart. His hands roamed her body greedily and Brooke tried to ignore the screaming thoughts in her head; just focusing on the pleasure.

She needed the pleasure; as a distraction. It was more important than the hatred she had for Dean fucking Winchester. Even though her hate boiled in her stomach and raced through her veins, she didn't care. She was drunk... or at least, partly.

Brooke made a soft noise in the back of her throat and took his face in her hands, roughly kissing him. She hitched a leg around his waist and smiled at his content groan as she moved her hips in a circular motion. _Just think of the pleasure, the great fuck, _Brooke thought to herself bitterly, _Don't think of Dean. Think of someone else... that hot actor who winked at you last Saturday! Yes, think of him.._

Dean gripped her hips tightly and pulled her close against him, pulling back from the hungry kiss. He moved his lips to her neck and kissed the skin, biting down. He didn't worry about being gentle; but he was nice enough to not draw blood, enjoying the surprised, aroused gasp from the brunette in front of him.

The two landed back on the cheap motel bed, clawing and biting and kissing each other with a fiery, hated passion. Ignoring each other was easy, thinking of someone else was easy. All they needed from each other was great, drunken sex. They relied on each other for the benefit; nothing else.

* * *

He woke up the next morning; the clock on the wall reading exactly 4am. With a groan from his pounding hangover, Dean pushed the sleeping brunette off of him and got up.

"Wake up and get out, princess," he said as he got an aspirin and a glass of water, slamming the bathroom door shut, just in time to see Brooke jump at the sound.

"Thanks for the awakening, asshole," Brooke muttered, starting to gather her clothes. She looked around the messy motel room for her bra and high heels, a frustrated huff coming from her lips.

"Looking for this?" Dean asked from the doorframe of the bathroom, swinging her pink bra between two fingers and smirking darkly as she snatched it from him. "Your shoes are under the bed."

Brooke rolled her eyes as she slipped her clothes on. "So goddamn helpful."

"Didn't I say get out?"

"I'm going," she hissed. "Oh, and just to let you know, you sucked last night. Don't drink so much."

"That's not what you said when you were screaming in pure ecstasy," Dean mocked, stepping closer to her. "'_Oooh, Dean, right there! Oh my.. Dean!_'"

Brooke pursed her lips and resisted the urge to lash out at him. "I don't sound like that," she shot over her shoulder as she reached the door.

"Whatever gets you through the night," Dean mumbled as the door shut and collapsed on the bed, not bothering to put on a shirt. His head still ahced, but mostly because of the thoughts running through his head. He should've stopped this the first night it happened, a few weeks after Brooke betrayed him.

But he didn't, and now, they were each other's sex toys. Brooke was bad news, he knew that. Of course, Sammy thought she was a pure angel. Sammy loved Brooke like a little sister and gave Dean shit for taking advantage of her.

His own brother didn't even believe him; but instead, the lying skank.

* * *

**Short and not that good, I know. I have an awesome chapter planned out for tomorrow though! But for now, I'm off to bed. Hope you enjoyed this! Night.(; **


	2. Not Your Type

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**More angst! Thank you all for the subs, favorites, and reviews! I'm still not exactly clear on WHAT Brooke did to make Dean hate her so much, so please, at the end of this chapter, give me a few ideas! Thanks and enjoy! (:**

He watched her from where he sat on the hood of the Impala, a beer pressed to his lips as his eyes stared on blankly. The brunette was talking with Sam with a carefree smile, those irrestible dimples teasing him. That was one thing he hated about her. Her dimples made her seem so innocent. But Dean knew she wasn't. She might as well have been a demon from the day she was born.

There was nothing innocent about Brooke as far as he was concerned. But her beauty made everyone think so and bow before her. She used that against Dean sometimes, flaunting her popularity to piss him off and build up his rage inside of him. He didn't know if she did it just to irk him or if it was because the more hate, the greater sex. Whatever it was, it worked with both options and the latter choice, he could agree with. The more they hated each other, the greater the benefit and pleasure; something both of them liked.

A lot.

Brooke looked over at him for a moment, the look in her eyes unreadable. She gave subtle smile - Dean, again, unable to detect the emotion behind it. Though, he was pretty sure it was deceit; slyness. As usaul. The only time she ever showerd a geniune smile towards him was before their fallout, when Sam was there, and during sex. Dean kept his eyes on him as she turned her head away and picked up her conversation with Sam again.

Dean still shook his head at his little brother, still blinded by the Brooke they used to knew. The sweet brunette behind the red door in the big white house. Everything the older Winchester said was now a lie.

And everything Davis said was the truth.

* * *

"Sammy!" Brooke shrieked, gasping in surprise. "You're so mean!"

Sam laughed. "It's just a little water, no big deal," he said with a playful wink.

"But it's cold!"

The younger Winchester set down the hose and chuckled at Brooke's pout. "I'm sorry."

Brooke narrowed her eyes. "Liar."

Dean rolled his eyes at the two as he walked over, tossing his beer bottle in the trash. He ignored Brooke shooting him a look as he shoved his hands in his pocket impatiently. "Sooo, Sam, can we go now?"

"Yeah, I guess," Sam replied with a small sigh, wrapping the brunette in a hug. "See ya later, Brookie."

As Dean turned around to leave, Brooke touched his arm. He raised an eyebrow as he twisted back around, meeting her hazel eyes. "Yes?"

"Do you always have to be such a jackass? Don't want your little brother to end up hating you as much as everyone else?"

"At least I'm not some stuck-up, aboanded little whore," Dean snarled, eyeing her. "Thankfully, you're not a bitch in bed."

Brooke smirked darkly. "Oh? I thought I wasn't your type.. I'm not inflatable," she shot back and let go of his arm, walking back to her own car.

Dean watched her go for a few, long moments, his eyes focused on the sway of her hips. Shaking his head, he glared after her silhouette before stalking back to the Impala.

"Dean," Sam warned as he slid into the driver's seat but he just shook his head, ignoring him. Sam couldn't say anything; he didn't know what happened.

He didn't know anything that had happened.

And if he did, Brooke would have two Winchester's on her ass, instead of one.

* * *

**Sorry it's so short and a little boring! I promise it'll get better!(:**


	3. Care To Make A Deal?

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**This chapter is a little dark. You learn about their past together and how Brooke became a hunter. You get a few, subtle hints of what Brooke did! Thanks to my lovely friend, (mentioned in Cake Wars and Drabbles), Sara for helping me a lot with the plot!**

**Enjoy!**

_She walked into the dark house that night, her eyes darting across the room. Chills ran up her spine and she clutched the gun that Dean had given her close to her chest, chewing on her lip with worry._ Breathe, breathe, just breathe_, she reminded herself as she slowly quickened her pace, her steps still quiet. The floors creaked beneath her and Brooke cursed to herself, slipping her boots off. A dingy silence filled the thick air, everything pitch black besides the faint light from the window, a breeze drifting through. _

_She remembered what the two brothers had told her a few hours before. "Stay calm, and breathe slowly." Brooke had been having nightmares after she had heard voices and movements in her house. In her dreams, the thing - apparently a demon - that had been haunting her, appeared, cackling. It repeated over and over and finally, she relied on her best friends, Dean and Sam Winchester._

_Brooke was shocked and frightened once they told her the truth. There were evil things, the things you'd see in a horror movie. Monsters, spirits, ghouls, et cetera. And they, the two brothers Brooke had known since she was thirteen, hunted them and killed them. They saved lives of those haunted and made their lives peaceful again, hopefully for a long time._

_They researched and made Brooke's home a demon-safe environment. Salt around the windows and a demon trap under the welcome mat. Everything was quiet for a few weeks until she was at work, alone as she sketched a few designs. _

_Then, all of a sudden, she heard it. A loud thud. A very loud, familiar thud._

_The sound was followed by all the lights shutting off immediately, at the same time. Brooke knew exactly what was happening and her shaking hand slithered down to one of the drawers, taking out the gun the brothers hid there for protection._

_As she traveled slowly throughout the building, her eyes and ears alert, Brooke's finger lingered around the trigger of the cocked gun, drawing her lips in a thin line. A million questions and thoughts ran through her mind rapidly and she was unable to process them all._

_What did this demon want?, was the only one she could think of at that moment and it distracted her for a few moments, before she heard the thud again._

_Slowly tiptoeing towards the sound, she held her breath as she brought the gun up a little more, in case the demon jumped out at her. Brooke looked around for a few seconds, her breath held in her throat as she reached a door, slightly ajar._

_"Hello, Brooke."_

_Brooke whirled around, her gun aimed and her finger almost touching the trigger. A smirking man with black eyes stood, a knife pressed to someone's throat._

_As Brooke looked closer, she realized who the someone was. _

_Her father._

Brooke awoke with a start, in cold sweat, her breath heavy. She ran a hand over her face and muttered under her breath.

She hated that.

She hated the nightmares that followed those awful, unspeakable events.

Dean was right.

She was a betrayer, but she'd never admit it.

With a small sigh to herself, Brooke dragged herself from her comfy bed and slid her robe around her body, walking to the kitchen. She got a glass of water and chugged it down in one gulp, dabbing a cloth at her damp forehead. After a few minutes, the brunette was able to calm herself and picked up her phone off the counter.

Four missed calls.

Two from Sam, two from her parents.

Brooke tossed her phone aside again after she sent a quick reply to the younger Winchester and made her way to the washroom, stripping off her clothes and turning on the shower.

Showers were good for thinking and that's what Brooke needed to do. She stepped in the shower and sighed as the warm water hit her, just standing there and letting the droplets splash on her skin, hopefully washing away all her worries.

For now, at least.

_Brooke's hands were shaking as she held the gun, aimed at the demon's chest but she forced her body to control it's self. She looked at her father who was giving her a stern, but slightly fearful, look._

_"What do you want from me? Please, just let him go..." Brooke's voice was quivering as she spat out the sentence and the demon simply shrugged, the smirk still on it's face._

_"Your father's life, that's it." _

_"Why? Why him?" Brooke questioned, taking a small step closer._

_The demon chuckled. "Oh, pretty little lady, you can't know that. But, we can make deal..."_

* * *

**And there it is! Sorry for the lack of B/D action, but next chapter, I promise! (;**


	4. Enemies With Benefits

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**I'd like to thank _boothimyours_ and_ CaseyJr_ for their lovely reviews! Thank you guys so much! :)**

**And all you silent readers, I love the subs and favorites, but I'd really, really love some reviewing. Please? (;**

**This chapter has a little smut and drama. And a few more hints on what Brooke did...**

**Also, Sara in this chapter is the previously mentioned Sara, but she is NOTHING like this in real life, haha! (Or how she will be in the next chapter.)**

**Sorry for the shortness!**

**Enjoy!**

Their heavy breathing mixed together and their sweaty limbs were tangled, lips captured in a fiery, fierce kiss. Moans traveled through both of their throats as their hips moved together with that same passion of hatred. Brooke pulled at his shoulders, her nails gently leaving red marks and her legs hitched around him, her free hand fisting his hair. Damp skin to damp skin, it was the only way to two felt civil with each other.

As they both reached their releases at the same time with groans and cries of pleasure, Dean kissed her roughly for a few quick seconds before pulling out of her and rolling off of her. This time, he didn't immediately tell her kick her out of the bed, he just turned away from her to control his breathing.

Brooke wrapped the blanket around her naked body, a look of confusion crossing her eyes as she stared at Dean's back, but she kept quiet. Swallowing a lump in her throat after a minute, she spoke up. "Dean?"

Dean didn't turn around. "What?"

"I know this is crazy and we hate each other and all that, but... I have this charity ball to go to tonight.. and I desperately need a date.."

With an inadubile sigh, he finally turned to face her. Dean thought for a moment. "This doesn't change anything, Davis."

* * *

The ballroom was swarming with people, all chatting in small high-school-like cliques. Everyone was dressed fancy, a champagne glass held by three fingers as they laughed that classy, clipped laugh.

Brooke was dressed in a flattering, floor-length dress, with an open back and plunging - but subtle and classy - neckline. It was red and hugged her curves in every right place and even exposed a little bit of leg.

And_ damn_, Dean loved those legs.

Dean himself was even dressed like a rich man. A nice suit Brooke had lent him from her men's line; but it still held a little bit of his style.

The only thing that was wrong was...

He was chewing gum, at a charity ball.

"Are you chewing gum?" Brooke hissed under her breath, her nails digging into his arm in an unpleasant way. She let go after he let out a growl in pain and grabbed two glasses of champagne. "Not until you spit that out... can you at least_ try_ and act like you've done this before?"

Dean rolled his eyes and took out his gum, sticking it under the fountain on the table. He looked around sheepishly to see if anyone had noticed and shrugged. As Dean turned back to Brooke, he saw the brunette holding her face in her hands.

"Happy now?" He asked with a smirk.

Brooke glared at him. "No, thank you for asking."

Their banter was interrupted as a lithe blonde tapped on Brooke's shoulder. As the two glanced at her, Dean had the urge to look her over and he it did as quick and sly as he could, before feeling Brooke smack his arm.

The blonde was wearing a black dress, ending a little past her knees... exposing a lot of leg.

Dean likey.

She had a lace shawl draped over her shoulders and a sparkly clutch in her hand. she was smiling at them both, her blonde locks curled and shaping her face.

"Hi Brooke," she said softly, making eye contact with Dean. The blonde held his gaze for a moment before winking, a small blush tainting her cheeks.

Brooke's narrowed eyes flickered towards them for a moment and she tried to hide the prickling anger and jealousy she felt, managing a small, dimpled smile. "Hello, Sara. How are you?"

Dean kept studying Sara, with hungry and lustful eyes. Yes, he was Brooke's date; but he had strictly said it meant nothing.

They were enemies with benefit. Nothing more.

They hated each other.

No rules.

So, if he wanted to... and that girl was drunk enough... he could sleep with her, yes?


	5. I Don't Like Him Like That

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**Angst, angst, angst! Drama, drama, drama!**

**Also, I have two new ideas for some Brooke/Dean stories, so look out for those! One takes on the storyline of Lisa/Dean (but much better since I hate Lisa) and with the child really being his, and the other is where Brooke's body was a few differnet bodies in one day for a case of demon murders, and then they meet her next .. 'form', and have to protect her so she doesn't get killed whilst trying to figure out if she's a supernatural figure or not.**

A few long hours had passed and Brooke was sick of the fake smiles and cheerful tones. That was what she most hated about red carpet events and charity balls. Everyone acted so high and mighty; always fighting for the spotlight.

Sighing, Brooke set down on her champagne glass and excused herself politely from her conversation, weaving through the crowd. She scanned around for Dean; he had went looking for some scotch... twenty-five minutes ago.

Fucking. Bastard.

Brooke stormed her way up the narrow staircase; although, she did it in a classy way so she didn't disturb the party. Her eyes were cold as she made her way to a closed door at the end of the hallway. She stopped a few steps away from it and knew what she had excepted was exactly true._ Of course it was_. Brooke's hand slithered out and captured the knob, throwing the door open.

Tangled up in the sheets, laid the not-so-clothed bodies Dean and Sara.

The blonde gasped, hiding herself with a surprised, ashamed look and blushing cheeks. Dean, on the other hand, could care less. He just looked at Brooke with a raised, daring eyebrow; as if saying '_I did nothing wrong'_. His hair was a mess as he ran a hand through it, his hazel eyes still fixated on the fuming brunette.

* * *

"What the hell is this?" Brooke screeched at the two sitting before her, now clothed.

The ball had ended about an hour ago after she had found the pair; Brooke had left them alone before tracking them down once everyone had cleared.

Yes, she was pissed.

Yes, she and Dean were not even friends.

Yes, they only used each other for sex.

Yes, she deserved it.

But still; she was pissed.

Dean gave a sigh and shot an apologetic glance at Sara. "Brooke, calm down."

"Calm down? Do_ not_ tell me to_ calm down_, Winchester! You were _my_ date! You guys fucked in the middle of the ball! What if someone caught you? Do you know how bad that would look?"

"Brooke, I strictly told you this meant nothing. We're not even friends and we never will be. Why are you so concerned?" Dean asked, a gleam in his eye. The mischievous, challenging gleam Brooke knew oh-so-well. "Is it because your public image would be ruined? Your fake boyfriend would be reported all over those magazines for sleeping with your model? Are you that shallow, Brooke?"

The brunette glared at him with a fiery hatred in her eyes; but something more. Something more personal. A mixed emotion neither of the two sitting in front of her could detect. Was it betrayal? Sadness?

None of them knew, and they wouldn't; Brooke had already stalked out of the room and made a big show of slamming the door - _loudly - _after her.

Sara knew she'd probably be fired.

Dean knew he wouldn't be getting Davis in his bed for a_ long_ time.

* * *

_Back in black, I hit the sack. I've been too long, I'm glad to be back. Yes, I'm let loose, from the noose.._

The lyrics pouring from the radio made Brooke's skin prickle, her blood boil, and her heart...

Ache?

Why did she feel all of a sudden sadness? First it was pure hatred... now...

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

**NO_._**

Brooke took a few brfeaths to calm herself and sighed, crumbling up the sketch she was drawing. "You are Brooke Davis. You are Brooke fucking Davis. You own a billion dollar clothing line and have been on every single fashion magazine and blog. You will not feel for that asshole. _You will not feel for him_."

"Feel for who?"

The brunette's head snapped up at the sudden voice, her heart pounding in her chest. She let out a small, inaudible sigh of relief when she realized it was only Peyton. With a quick smile at the blonde, she motioned for her to sit as she fumbled for an excuse. "Just a guy who is.. uhm, going through a rough time... and uh, he used to be a jerk to me... so, I'm trying not to feel sorry for him.."

Peyton blinked and chuckled, shaking her head. "B. Davis lies again, and fails. So, who's the mystery lover?"

Brooke narrowed her eyes. "No one..."

"Wait... is it Dean Winchester..?" Peyton asked suddenly, a look of surprise on her face. "Oh my God, it is!"

"HELL NO!"

* * *

**There it is! I promise next chapter will be MUCH longer and much better - and uploaded tonight! With more on what Brooke did...**


	6. Unveiling

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**The site was being a bitch and wouldn't let me log in or edit stories, so, I didn't get to update it in the time I hope! But I did get to re-read it, edit it, and make it MUCH better! Enjoy!**

**Also, regarding the stories I mentioned, I also have a few more ideas... hehe. One is a Rachel/Sam fic, a Brooke/Dean/Samantha fic (not sure if it'll be a one-shot or not), and possibly two others that I have yet to chose the couples for and the basic plot.**

_"What... what kind of deal?" Brooke asked, her voice quivering. Her eyes flickered between the demon and her father - fear in their depths; as much as she tried to hide it. _

_The demon smirked at her question. He knew she'd accept it. The brunette was scared of daddy dearest. He knew all about it. Every weakness Brooke Davis held in her heart. He put a little pressure in the knife near Richard's collarbone; a satisfactory look in his eyes as it drew a bit of blood. He felt Brooke flinch at the growl her father left out; his eyes telling her to do something or she'd regret it. "Well, Brookie..,. you want your father to live, yes?_

_Brooke winced on the inside and the demon caught it. No, she didn't want him to live. But the look he was giving her forced an answer from her lips. "Yes."_

_He smiled and took the knife away, pointing it at her suggestively. "Are you willing to have someone else's soul in the hands of us demons?"_

_The brunette nodded again; Richard glaring it her with such force, such anger. _

_The demon took a dangerous step towards her and smiled again, an evil gleam in his black eyes. "Then tell me where John Winchester is, pretty."_

Brooke awoke with a start as she felt something prodding at her side and she jumped, her eyes snapping up to met none other than Dean Winchester's.

Bad timing, eh?

She sat up and ran a hand through her tangled hair as Dean sat down on the bench next to her, a light chuckle coming from his throat. Brooke raised an eyebrow. "And what do you want?"

"Brooke Davis sleeping on a park bench? Kind of curious." He asked with a questioning look.

Brooke shrugged. "I was just really tired, I guess."

Dean nodded and watched her for a few moments before he took a sip of the beer bottle in his hand.

"Drinking so early?" Brooke teased lightly.

"It's six somewhere in the world."

The brunette chuckled and bit her lip, guilt washing over her. She sighed and looked at him, fumbling for words. "Hey Dean?"

Dean looked at her. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry..."

"For what?" He questioned, though he had his ideas at the back of his thoughts. His hazel eyes searched her's; their emotion changing from neutral to worried; ashamed.

Brooke took a deep breath before exhaling shakily. "For getting mad the other night... for... everything.."

Dean looked away and took a swig from his beer. "Well.. it's a little too late to be apologizing for that."

She watched as he stole a quick glance at her before finishing off his drink, standing up from the bench. Brooke had so much to say to him; but she knew he was right.

* * *

Slamming the motel room's door behind him, Dean dropped his keys on the bed and sighed, plopping down on the mattress. He looked over at Sam who was researching at the laptop, a coffee next to him as he typed away.

They stayed in silence for a few moments; the only sounds the steady typing of Sam's fingers and voices in the hallway. Finally, Sam spoke up. "Dean, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Dean shrugged and sat up, glancing over at his little brother. "Sure, Sam. What's up?"

Sam sighed as he ran his hand over his face. He knew Dean wouldn't be happy at what he was going to say... but he had to say it. Brooke was his best friend, for years, and Dean was using her. And he knew she was hurting on the inside. "Well... Dean, why are you being such a jackass to Brooke lately? She used to be our best friend, like our sister, and now, all you guys do is fight and fuck each other. You're using her, and I know you guys had a fall-out, but... she's hurt.."

"And you didn't think that I could be hurt by all this? You don't think that little miss fucking perfect Davis could've hurt me? She lied, Sam! She's lying to you and you can't even see it!" Dean yelled, his voice sharp with rage. His eyes were flaring and he felt something in the pit of his stomach, but he ignored it. All he wanted was Sam to see that his prissy best friend wasn't the girl she said she was. She was a liar. And a betrayer.

And a bitch.

"What did she lie about, Dean?" Sam asked as calmly as he could; though there was some anger at the end.

Dean stepped closer to his brother, his hazel eyes narrowed. "She lied about her family, her past. And she lied about Dad."

With that, Dean left the motel and angerly sped off in the Impala; Sam left behind to wonder...

_She lied about Dad..?_

* * *

_Brooke was sitting on the steps of her home, crying. Her hands held her face and her body was quivering with sadness; and anger at herself._

_What had she done? Why did she do it?_

_Dean didn't deserve this. _

_Sam didn't deserve this._

_And neither did John._

_Of course; her father didn't care. He wanted to be alive and wealthy, and make his daughter's life a living hell. He didn't give a shit about anyone else. Richard Davis had a power over Brooke. She was scared of him. Terrified. He just needed to narrow his eyes or clench his jaw and she obeyed his wishes._

_Brooke hated that. She hated being so goddamn weak..._

_The slamming of a car door disturbed Brooke from her thoughts and her head snapped up in time to see Dean rushing towards her. "You fucking bitch!" He hissed as soon as he reached her and Brooke felt her heart break._

_Literally._

_"Dean... I'm so sorry... I..." _

_Dean cut her off sharply, a disgusted look on his face. "Save it! How? How could you? I thought you were my friend, Brooke!" _

_"I am... I was... Dean, I care ab-" Brooke sobbed out, barely able to finish her sentence. Her mind raced with thoughts and she felt sick. She felt disgusted with herself like Dean did. What she did, was wrong. She didn't want to do it... but in the end, she did. _

_And she could never change it._

_"Newsflash, Brooke! Friends don't trade the life of their friends' dad. You are a liar and a slut. You are no longer my friend, you got it? Stay the hell away from me and Sam!"_

* * *

"I want to make a deal."

Azazel looked at the brunette with his flashing yellow eyes and gave his crooked smirk. "A deal?" he asked, eyes locked evenly with hers.

"Bring John back and I'll give you my dad, like you originally wanted," Brooke suggested firmly, her gun ready in case he decided to pull a trick. Her heart was pounding and her head ached; but she ignored it all. She was sick of her and Dean constantly fighting...

And deep down, she had feelings for him. Even if she didn't want to admit it.

"Why would I do that, pretty lady? I already have who I want."

Brooke kept her eyes clouded and stern; but they also had a small pleading to them. "You can have him as soon as you want. Please. Just bring John back."

Azazel pretended to think before he smiled wickedly. "Sorry, sugar."


	7. These Words

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**I'm glad so many of you are reviewing, subbing, and favoriting this story! **

**Thanks and enjoyy!**

The pounding on Brooke's door disrupted her and she looked up from her sketch. With a sigh, she got up and headed towards the door as the knocking got louder. Excepting Dean, she threw the door open, her arms crossed. "What?"

Sam looked down at her with a furrowed eyebrow. "Did I come at a wrong time..?"

Brooke shook her head. "No, sorry. I just thought it-"

"Was Dean?" Sam finished for her and shook his head. "But.. it kinda involves him. Can I come in?"

Nodding, Brooke stepped aside to let him and shut the door behind him. She watched him as he paced for a few moments, worrying on his lip as he thought before turning to her.

"Brooke..." he drew out, sighing, "I need to ask you something important... and I need a truthful answer... did you make a deal to keep your dad alive?"

The words were enough to knock the brunette over in shock; like a tidal wive. But thankfully, she kept her balance. Her eyes were wide as she stared at him and stuttered out an answer. "Uh... I... yeah... I did."

Sam looked her straight in the eye. "Did it have something to do with our dad's death...?"

Tears came to Brooke's eyes as she looked down and swallowed the lump in her throat. Her heart was racing and she felt her palms get sweaty. She didn't want to relive this again; like she had for the past few weeks. She didn't want Sam to think of her as a bad person, a liar.

But he would.

Brooke took a breath; a long, deep one, and nodded sadly. "Y-yeah.."

"Why...?"

His tone made Brooke's heart break even more and she stumbled for words before she silently sighed and lifted up the hem of her shirt, turning around. She felt Sam's eyes travel to where she had pointed her finger; a long, faded bruise went from one hip to a little under her bra clasp. It was only visible if someone looked closely; and, if it wasn't covered in make-up.

"Brooke..." Sam whispered, searching her faces as she turned back around. He saw the tears starting to fall and he enveloped her in his arms, letting her cry on his shoulder.

* * *

His hands were tightly gripped on the steering wheel; knuckles ghostly white, his eyes focused solemnly on the road. Thoughts ran through his mind over and over like a shitty black-and-white film that never stopped.

With a masked, emotionless face, Dean swerved right on the road and put his album on full blast. Usually, he'd start to goof; alone or with Sam. He'd dance and sing foolishly, no matter his mood.

But, right now?

He didn't want to.

Dean was too focused on his task. He had a plan. And he needed to stick to it.

For once, he came to terms with his feelings.

And agreed.

* * *

Brooke blew lightly on her coffee as she sat across from Sam, the tears on her cheeks drying up. They had talked for the last two hours and both cried a little. Brooke told him everything - her family issues, how long the abuse had been going on, how long her mother had started drinking heavily, and why she made the deal, and why she hated herself for it.

Sam had reassured her it was okay; he didn't like the part that she had to lie to him about it, but he understood. Still, Brooke couldn't help but have the worrying feeling tug at the pit of her stomach.

The feeling that told her, _You betrayed them. Dean hates you. Dean will never forgive you._

She sighed and looked back up at Sam. "Thank you, Sammy."

Sam gave her a small smile and rubbed her arm comfortingly. "No thanks needed. Have you told Dean any of this?"

"No..." Brooke murmured, drawing her eyes back to her coffee as she took a sip.

"It'd make it a whole lot easier between you two if you did. He may not fully forgive you; but he'd understand."

Brooke glanced at him and shrugged. "See, that's the point. He'll never forgive me. In years, he may say he does, but he won't. Ever."

Taking her hand with a sigh, Sam tipped her head up with his other hand. "Brooke, you need to stop doing this to yourself. It's not healthy. Dean... Dean, well, he's complicated. He's never loved a girl before; and I guess, when you guys were close friends... you making the deal just made his trusting issues worse. But that's not your fault. Dean always finds a reason to build his walls up even further. Brooke, trust me with this... he cares about you... a lot."

"You really think so?" Brooke asked quietly, sniffling back tears as she met his gaze.

Sam smiled. "Yeah, I do. I really do."

* * *

The Impala pulled up in the gravel and Dean switched off the music with a sigh. He drug a hand over his face as he re-thought over his plan...

Why was he doing this?

With no further thoughts, Dean climbed out of the car and started to walk towards the building, hands shoved in his pockets. His lips were drew in a thin line as he pulled out his wallet, rummaging for the money he had saved over the few months. As he slid the bills into his fingers, Dean knew he was doing this.

There was no turning back. His mind was set. His decision was final.

The crisp feeling of the money between his calloused fingers calmed him in an odd way as he walked through the doors. His nerves started to ease slowly and he took a breath.

"Two tickets, please."

* * *

Sam had left after another thirty minutes and Brooke was left alone again. A huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders after she had spilled all her feelings to him; even confessing one thing she couldn't admit to herself.

That she truly loved Dean Winchester.

It was crazy; it was.

But she did.

She wanted him. Brooke wanted to be the one to comfort Dean when he was feeling upset; to hold his hand when one of them needed reassurance. To kiss him to calm his nerves and to reward him on a job well done.

She wanted it all.

Lost in thought, Brooke headed towards the kitchen for a glass of water to ease the sharp pain in her throat.

"Brooke! Open up!"

The voice made Brooke freeze and it took her a while to slowly stand up, blinking in shock as she opened the door.

Dean stood in front of her and she saw worry and fear and insecurity in his eyes. She saw the way he was holding something back as he stared down at her. Dean took a long, steady breath and stood there for a few moments, just standing quiet and still. He suddenly reached out and took one of her hands, grasping it tightly; but not enough to hurt her.

His touch was gentle.

Soft.

Caring.

"Brooke... I love you..."


	8. Don't Blame Yourself

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**I know some of you hate me for the way I ended last chapter (I KNOW SARA DOES!) buuut...**

**you'll hate me more now.**

**This chapter is dark and a little sad. I may or may not had tears in my eyes. This one really focuses on B/D's thoughts and feelings throughly.**

**Enjoy!**

She wasn't sure what to say - or do - when Dean's words hit her ears. The brunette just stood there, almost numbly. She had admitted it to Sam and he had told her he knew Dean felt for her... but hearing it now; the older Winchester standing in front of her, at her very doorstep... it scared her. Brooke couldn't work out any words as she stared up at him, and then down at their hands.

The feeling of Dean's fingers wrapped around her's; ever so softly... it made her want to kiss him. Passionately, endearingly. Not driven by hatred and lust. But driven by care and love. She wanted to smile and say those words back. Cry a little, happily, and end up in his arms. Asleep and dreaming peacefully.

But it was already too late. Dean had dropped her hands with a long sigh; hanging his head in shame. As he looked back to the brunette, he managed a sad, forced smile. "I get it... I'm sorry, Brooke," he whispered and just took something out of his pocket, sliding the envelope into her fingers. Inside, his heart ached as their fingers brushed briefly; but he didn't let it show. Dean just turned around and headed back to the Impala, without another word.

Watching him as he sped off in the car, Brooke felt herself choke up as her eyes stared at the winding road he had disappeared behind before her eyes darted towards the envelope in her hands. She bit her lip as she slowly opened it. A ticket laid inside, and even through the blurry tears, Brooke made out the words 'FROM: TREE HILL, NC, TO: LAWRENCE, KS' As she read the words in a mere whisper, the sobs kept traveling up her throat and escaping; tears streaming down her cheeks endlessly. She tried to keep them at bay but she couldn't.

Brooke Davis had just let Dean Winchester - the one man she truly loved - slip away in a matter of minutes. And once again, she hated herself for it. She hated how pathetic and weak she was. Her knees weakened as she walked into her house and the door shut behind her; the brunette's frail body slumping onto the floor with shaking cries. Brooke's hand clasped over her mouth to hold back the sound of her pitiful sobs; she couldn't stand to hear them. This couldn't be real. It was all a dream. Just a really shitty dream. She'd wake up the next day and she'd be with Dean. Bantering and at each other's throats; but it couldn't be as worse as losing him forever. She knew it was all just a silly thought to calm herself for the minute. Brooke knew she'd be in the exact some position tomorrow. Lonesome and regretting.

But at least it wouldn't last for long, right?

* * *

Dean poured himself another shot and quickly drank it. His eyes were averted to the table as he let the liquid slide down his throat; tasteless and the usual stinging.. not so stinging.

The only thing Dean could feel right now was numb sorrow, in his heart. He knew he shouldn't have done that. Brooke Davis didn't love him. Why would she? Dean had blamed her and pushed her away so many times when she tried to apologize and make things right. She shouldn't love an asshole like him. Dean didn't deserve her. Brooke deserved a family; wonderful kids and a charming husband.

A charming husband who wouldn't be him.

Downing another shot, Dean stared at the wood; his eye squinting in thought. His hand grasped the glass tightly as the thoughts pondered and raced throughout his mind. Maybe Brooke would take the tickets... maybe she would be there. Waiting for him. Maybe she'd be there, ready to tell him those three words he desperately needed to hear from her lips. She didn't reply... yes, that's bad; but at least she didn't say 'I don't love you'. So, maybe there was hope for them? Maybe she just needed some time to think it all over?

Dean hoped that was the case, and that at 11am tomorrow morning; Brooke Davis would be waiting there, at the train station - bags packed and that dimpled smile planted on her lips. Those kissable lips that he wanted to claim his; lovingly. They could move on with their lives and forget about the past. Focus on the present and soon enough, they're future.

Maybe it was just the heartache that was putting Dean in such a ... romantic mood. Usually, it'd be Sam to act like this. All lovey-dovey and hopeful. Maybe Brooke had an effect on Dean; maybe she had started to change him and his ways...

Because Dean knew he loved this stunning, strong, and brave brunette. The girl who set up fierce walls and wouldn't let anyone tear them. Dean was the same, and Brooke had been able to knock his down. It was just a matter of time until she'd let him do the same. They'd both drop those heavy walls and trust each other completely; like in this chick flick movies Dean hated. But with Brooke... He'd be Romeo, Prince Charming, Prince Eric... any romantic, handsome, and charming character from those movies. He'd be all those for her. Dean had to smirk to himself as he thought about that; Sammy would definitely be proud; the Fairy Tale boy himself.

Dean pushed back the chair and sighed, his eyelids drooping a little. As he walked to the cheap bed and collapsed on the mattress, two things were on his mind and nothing else; Brooke and the train station.

She would be waiting for him.

She had to be.

As he started to fall into a light sleep, he remembered the first time he felt something for Brooke, the first time he kissed her.. before she made the deal.

_"So, hot-shot, how does it feel to have a girl beat your ass at pool?" Brooke Davis, 18, asked with a wink. Dean had been 25 at the time and he saw Brooke at her house; she wasn't looking too happy. He knew that she was having a fight with her boyfriend and the blonde friend of her's; and he always knew there was problems with her family. So, feeling a little bad, he decided to take her out... to a bar nonetheless. She looked the right age to be drinking and he knew she had a fake ID._

_Smirking a little, Dean met her eyes evenly as the brunette toyed with the cue stick. "Surprised that," Dean chuckled as he looked at her, "Brookie l__ikes to shoot pool."_

_Brooke smiled, her dimples showing as she took a sip of her beer. "Mmm, I love beating boys at pool."_

_He took a step over to her and laughed as she raised her glass before clinking his against her's. "Bottom's up. Now, Miss Davis, let's see how can really win this game."_

_The brunette smirked. "My pleasure. Watch and learn."_

_The night dragged on and soon enough, Brooke had successfully beat him at pool; and she was getting a kick out of it. She had teased him as they ordered more beer and they goofed off; just talking about random things and laughing. For the first time in a while, both Dean and Brooke felt at ease and having fun._

_Brooke turned towards him in the bar stool with a soft smile, her hazel eyes happy. "Thank you, Dean, for tonight. I really needed it."_

_Dean gave his own smile and flicked his wrist to wave it off. "Nah, no thanks needed. I was just doing a friend a favor," he said, and as he looked down at the beautiful brunette in front of him; he felt his eyes darting to her lips. Dean had the sudden urge to kiss her but he leaned back in his seat and just took another drink from his beer._

_"Don't think I didn't see that," Brooke whispered in her raspy voice. A smirk played upon her lips as she studied him. "I saw you looking at my lips."_

_Dean pretended to think and shrugged. "I... uh, I don't know what you mean."_

_She laughed and pulled his head towards her's. "Just kiss me, you fool."_

_And he did._

_Her lips were warm against his; they tasted like beer and apple pie, obviously from what she just ate; but he could also taste the cinnamon lipgloss she was wearing. Dean set his hand on her cheek and the other on her hip, but he didn't push for anything. She deepened the kiss by inviting his tongue in but that was all._

_He took her home after a while and she kissed his cheek with a smile, thanking him again. As he walked home, he felt happy and reviled. _

_When they saw each other again; nothing happened. They never forget but they just ignored it and went on with being bickering best friends._

* * *

The morning sun cracked through the curtains and awoke Dean, who shot out of bed immediately. His eyes frantically landed on the clock and he blew out a sigh of relief as he saw the time. Exactly 10 o'clock. Dean had an hour to get ready and it suited him just fine. He had already wrote a note for Sam and packed his bags. All he needed to do was get showered and dressed, eat something quick on the way to train station, and wait for Brooke. He'd be there around 10:50 at the latest.

Hopping in the shower, he had to smile a little. Maybe today was the day. He had to believe that. Mary had always said '_Angels are watching over you_' and her other cheesy, but motherly, cliches. And she had said if you just believed in something so much, and loved and cherished it, you'd get what you wanted. Dean Winchester loved and cherished Brooke. He knew that now. He believed in her whole-heartedly. That's all he needed.

Brooke Davis, his Impala, and pie, of course.

Dean was soon out of the house and on the road, his music blasted. He was singing along happily - to some rock love song he couldn't name - and a smile lit his face as he grabbed a quick burger and soda at the nearest drive-through. His fingers tapped along the wheel as he busily sped towards the train station; the time reading 10:43. Seven minutes, and in exactly seven; he would be there.

As he pulled up and smiled to himself, he dug out his ticket and his bags. A smile was on his face as he waited patiently - _10:55_ - for Brooke, tapping the ticket on his free hand. He saw the happy couples; some young and wild; some middle-aged with a kid or two, and then some, old and wrinkled but happy and alive.

He wondered if him and Brooke would end up like that - _10:58_ - when they were in their fifties; sixties. Wrinkled and withered (though Dean cringed at the thought of him with gray hair and skin like a prune); but happily married. Maybe some kids and grandchildren.

_11:09._

Dean was lost in thought that the final warning for the train departure scared the shit out of him; he almost jumped. As he caught the tail-end of the announcement, his eyes raked the crowd for that stunning brunette.

She had to be there.

Dean moved through the crowd to look for her better. He saw many look-a-likes and apologized as he mistaked a few; but he didn't give up.

_11:12._

He had three minutes and he picked up his pace as Dean desperately searched for her. She wouldn't just leave him like this, right? She'd at least tell him she was sorry and return the ticket. Brooke wasn't a selfish person not to. So, she _had_ to be somewhere in the crowd. He pushed through the people and ignored all the rude remarks he got. Brooke was the only thing on his mind. The only thing that mattered. Brooke Penelope Davis.

His everything.

_11:15._

Dean felt his heart shatter as he reached the end of the crowd and saw the train leaving. She didn't come... Dean took a long breath, blinking away the small tears he felt form. He dropped the envelope in the nearest wastebasket and hauled his bags back to his car. As he sat in the seat, he slumped against it and allowed himself to cry softly for a few, long minutes. After cleaning up his face and switching on the radio, Dean started to drive to Brooke's house; eyes determined.

Determined to know why she didn't arrive, 11am sharp, at the train station.

* * *

The house was quiet and dark as Dean pulled up and he bit his lip with slight worry until he saw her car parked there. Breathing a sigh, he climbed out of the car and walked up to the door. He was about to rap his knuckles on the door before he saw it was opened a crack.

Now, Dean was seriously worried. He quietly pried it open; luckily with no sound at all, and stepped in. All the lights were turned off and it was eerily silent in the house. Taking a few more steps inside, he studied the hallway and saw a dim light - a candle, he figured - shine through the closed door. Guessing she was asleep, or maybe just relaxing; Dean walked towards the bedroom and opened it.

There Brooke Davis was. And so was a shirtless man, his arms around her as they slept.

"You bitch!" He shouted and wasn't surprised to see the man smirk; awake the moment he walked in; as if excepting Dean. Brooke, on the other hand, jumped as she heard him and her head snapped up from the pillow. Her eyes immediately filled with guilt, regret, and tears.

"Dean.." She started but he cut her off quickly, glaring at her with such hatred... it made her wince; the same anger her father used to give her.

"Don't!" Dean growled with rage, starting to pace around the room to ignore the sight of them. "You're just a whore; a broken down daddy's little daughter, Brooke. That's all you are! I am human, Brooke. I have a heart and I loved you. I did. Every time I threaten to leave you or call you a bitch or a slut, you don't do anything. You don't even hate me! You didn't even have the decency to call me up and apologize and decline the train ticket! Brooke, you're twenty-two! You can make your own damn decisions! Why do you always have to listen to your parents? You gave up your company, you sold my dad, and now, you won't even talk to me! You keep lying and betraying me and Sam! I'm sick of it! Does love exist for you?"

The brunette flinched, but she knew she deserved every stinging word. She'd given him her word but she didn't stick to it. Instead, while she should've been there, at the train station, her bags packed . She should have been there to hug him and kiss him and tell him she loved him. But instead, she was in bed with another man.

Dean scoffed as he finally looked at her; the brunette had her head hung and her eyes closed. "You won't even fucking look at me!" He hissed loudly as he turned to exit, slamming the bedroom door and then the front as he left. Brooke had hurried out of the bed to watch the Impala race off, tears springing from her eyes.

And the man in the bed just got up, his eyes flashing yellow. "It's time, sugar."

* * *

Ignoring the ringing of his cell that went off, once again, Dean angrily stormed out of the car and into the motel room. His eyes flared with rage as he grabbed the nearest liqour bottle and started to chug it. He needed to be drunk and numb. Like Bobby had told him - a saying by the old man's father, _"Just 'cause it kills your liver don't mean it ain't medicine."_

He downed the half-full bottle within seconds and went searching for another as Sam walked in the motel, worry on his face. He bit his lip as he saw Dean and cleared his throat to get his brother to turn around. As Dean did, he took a long breath before speaking. "Dean... Brooke made a deal. To bring John back, in exchange for her own life."

As the words reached Dean's ears, he dropped the bottle in his hand and didn't even flinch as it smashed. That's why she didn't show, that's why some perv was in her bed... and didn't look twice when he entered. Dean didn't even say another word to Sam, just grabbed his keys and hastily sped off.

He needed to get to Brooke in time.

He got there within fifteen minutes and raced inside. "Brooke?" he called, worry thick in his voice and concern and hurt evident in his hazel irises.

Nothing.

Complete silence.

Dean hurried to the bedroom and saw both Brooke and the man gone.

All that was left of her was her clothes, scattered on the floor.


	9. Hell Brings Good Kisses

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**Sorry for the cliffhanger last chapter! (; **

**_Where My Body Hides,_ for any readers, will be updated soon, either tonight or tomorrow. New one-shot will be posted and any readers of _I Still Know The Way To Make Your Make Up Run_, that is on hiatus!**

**This is dark.. ish and gets a little fluffier.**

**And yes, I am going along with the timeline of events in the show. (When Dean returns from Hell, etc.) As well as quotes and that stuff..**

**Enjoy!**

Gasping for breath, Brooke felt her throat feeling dry and sore as she punched and dug through the coffin, and then soon enough - the ground of her gave. Her knuckles hurt and bled as she did so, and she needed air. Desperately. She was panting and groaning in pain as she finally hoisted herself onto land, her eyes tired as she took a long breath of her needed oxygen before standing up. The brunette ran a hand through her tangled hair; removing the leaves and dirt as she started to walk under the hot sun. It felt good; comforting to feel the warm beating against her skin.. to breath fresh, cool air and look up at the blue sky. She had been in Hell so long; forty years. As Brooke processed that information, her shoulders slouched a little. Dean could've gotten married and had kids in those years... he could've forgot all about her.

Her mind raced with questions and thoughts as she trekked down the long, stranded road and her hazel eyes settled on a deserted gas station. To answer her questions; Brooke knew she first needed to find out what date it was. As she entered the building, Brooke grabbed a bottle of water and downed it. The liquid felt relaxing in her throat and she finished it off quickly. Remembering how she died, the brunette cautiously lifted about her shit to examine her skin. Smooth and the perfect ivory shade it had always been.. why? Shouldn't she be clawed and bloodied; a perfect meal for a wild cat? Her shoulder throbbed and she wondered if that was the only scar left on her; to reveal the way she died.

As she lifted about the sleeve of her t-shirt, she gasped and her eyes widened. The imprint of a hand - red and stinging, laid on the skin and she knew something had dragged her from the pit of Hell. But what?

And what year was it?

Brooke turned to a stack of newspaper and picked one up, scanning for the date._ September_ _2008... _it had only been four months? Brooke chewed on her lip as she set the paper down and grabbed some water, food, and cash. The first thing Brooke did was dial Sam's cell; but she got no answer. She pondered calling Dean but she didn't know if he figured out she slept with Azazel to seal the deal or he still thought she was a whore. Sighing, she decided to go to someone she had considered her father figure; along with the boys.

* * *

The doorbell ringing repeatedly awoke him and he grumbled a few things, exiting the bedroom and opening the front door. He was stunned at who stood before him; blinking in her silhouette. Bobby had met Brooke Davis when she was fourteen and tagging along with the brothers; she was a sweet girl and he knew she felt as him as a father figure, like Dean and Sam did - but, last he heard, Miss Davis was sent to Hell.

"I don't be-" he whispered, surprised and unsure.

Brooke tried to smile as she started to step in. "Yeah, me neither.. but it's me. Here I am.."

The old hunter reacted quickly. Of course, he had thought she was a supernatural figure - demon, shapeshifter, revenant . He couldn't be too sure and he needed to protect himself in case she was possessed.

"Whoa, wait! Your name is Robert Steven Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed. You're about the closet thing I could call my father; along with Sam and Dean," Brooke stuttered as he tried to tackle her, a silver knife in hand. "Bobby, it's me!" She reached out to try and stop him but Bobby tried to stab her with the knife. "Hey, whoa! I'm not a Shapeshifter!"

"Then you're a revenant!" Bobby exclaimed as Brooke pushed him away and grabbed the knife, sighing.

"If I was either, would I do this?" She asked, wincing a little as she sliced the knife slowly into her hand. Bobby stood staring at her; stunned. The girl who had needed his help; both with family problems and hunting, who he had treated like a daughter... was standing in front of him, back from Hell. But, yet again; she could still be possessed and after the Winchester's.

"Brooke?" Bobby asked with caution; but believable excitement.

Brooke nodded and forced a smile. "It's me."

The two hugged for a few moments before Bobby smiled a bit and pulled back. "It's good to see you... How.. how did you bust out?"

"I don't know. I just, uh...just woke up in a pine bo-" Brooke was cut off as Bobby threw a splash of Holy water in her face. She rolled her eyes a bit and sighed, spitting out the water that got in her mouth. "I'm not a demon either."

Bobby smiled sheepishly; a little guiltily, an "_Oops, my bad.._" face. "Sorry... uh, never can be too sure."

The brunette chuckled a little as he handed her a towel. "Good to be back," she murmured with a tiny sigh. "How are Sam and Dean?"

"I haven't talked to them much," Bobby said with a shrug. "I know they're both kind of pissed of you for making the deal; even if they're happy with their dad back."

Brooke nodded, pursing her lips in thought. "Everything good between them?"

The older hunter looked at her and sighed. "I don't know to be honest. I'm not so sure about Sam and John... they've always had tension. And Dean... since you've been gone, he's been distant... He really cares for you, Brooke."

"I know," she said. "But I had to make things right. And by the time he told me that, I had already made the deal. It couldn't be changed..."

Bobby stared at her hard. "You didn't have to. You could've fixed things by staying alive and out of Hell."

The brunette met his eyes evenly and sighed. "I know, Bobby... but at the time, I felt like I had to."

* * *

Dean sat on the motel bed, earphones in as he closed his eyes. Sam was researching books like usual and John went out without a word.

The older Winchester felt so lonely and hollow as he laid there; missing the bantering between him and Brooke when she'd come over to help with a hunt. Whether it was the playful one or the harsh, sarcastic one.

He missed her, so much.

A knock rapped at the door and Sam sighed, getting up to answer it. As he threw the door open, he stood with his mouth open ajar; eyes widened in shock. He couldn't believe it and as Dean came up behind him, they both grabbed their weapons but Bobby was quick to stop them.

"No, no! It's really her!" He told them reassuringly and stepped in front of the brunette. Brooke was chewing her lip as she looked over Bobby's shoulder. Dean's eyes were shocked and hurt; Sam's more surprised than anything. Suddenly, the younger brother came up to her and enveloped her in a hug.

Brooke sighed in relief as she hugged Sam back, smiling a little. She had missed both of the brother's and she definitely had missed the sweet side of Sam. Brooke opened her eyes to look back at Dean, who was still standing there. Quiet and stiff as he watched them, eyes studying the brunette carefully.

She was back.

He didn't think she would've escaped from Hell and Dean didn't know how she managed to. He was still pissed at her making the deal, even if having John back was great... but he loved Brooke. And those four months without her were painful.

He didn't hunt much and he had stopped making comical remarks. Dean had become much like John; strict and down to business (even though Dean just sat around in the Impala most times during hunt.) He had stopped having fun and drank heavily to ease the pain.

But now... she was back. And as he stared at her, pulling back from Sam to look at him; he realized that there was one thing he needed to do. Taking a breath, he gave a short smile and walked over to her. Dean ignored the eyes on him and just hugged her tightly, but gently. He was shocked at the least to feel her arms snake around his neck and hug him back; and that was when Dean took the chance.

He leaned down and kissed her, lovingly. He put everything into that kiss. It was endearing, soft, slow, and passionate. From both ends. Dean smiled and pulled back.

"If going to Hell means I get kisses like that..." Brooke joked with a wink and her smile reached her eyes; dimples full and bright. Her smile widened - if it was even possible - as Dean laughed.

Sam rolled his eyes as he watched them but his eyes shone proudly for his best friend and his brother. The two deserved happiness - with each other.

* * *

"But that's not even fair!" Brooke protested as she threw her arms up, falling back onto the bed with a loud and dramatic sigh.

The three rolled her eyes at her as they sat at the table. They had all talked a bit about Brooke's trip in Hell - the brunette had lied, rather convincingly; that she didn't remember much. Mostly a few tortuous acts as she arrived but the rest was black. She couldn't bring herself to tell them her soul had been tortured for thirty years before she gave up; she couldn't handle it, so... she tortured other's souls. Brooke was afraid of what they'd think...

Now, they were all talking about what was next. Brooke wanted to go on a hunt but Dean denied it ever-so-quickly, Sam and Bobby backing him up.

"Brooke, you just got back from Hell... I really don't think you should be on a hunt. Especially since we don't know how you got out," Dean pointed out as he brought out four beers and handed one to each person.

The brunette huffed and grumbled a few things under her breath as she took a sip of the liquor before her eyes snapped up to met his. "Wait."

"What?" The three all asked together, surprised.

Brooke bit her lip and pulled up her sleeve to reveal the burnt handprint. She shifted so they could see it as Dean knelt down in front of her; holding her shoulder. He mumbled an apology as she winched at the touch and studied it.

"I woke up with my shoulder hurting," she explained at their confused looks. "That was the only .. scar on me."

Bobby stared at her. "Well... it looks someone definitely dragged you out of Hell.. but what?"

"I asked myself the same thing," Brooke muttered.

* * *

Brooke was glad that Sam had went to Bobby's for the night; to research and she guessed because he knew that when Brooke was back... the two would have a lot of sex. Hate or love; he just knew it was best _not_ to stay there. Brooke and Dean were both very sexually active people; everyone knew that - and with Brooke being in Hell for four months and Dean not even laying an eye on another girl...

Grabbing her pillow from the couch and smiling to herself, the brunette hopped onto the bed and laughed as Dean grunted before smiling. He pulled her against him tightly and rubbed her hip with one hand.

"And what are you doing waking me up?" He asked as he peeled open an eye.

Brooke smiled and turned towards him. "Well... I'm really horny right now.. and I needed to tell you; that I really, really love you, Dean Winchester."

Hearing those words from her mouth made Dean beam and he bent down, covering her mouth with his sweetly. He pulled back after a few seconds and brushed a hand over her cheek, grinning ear to ear. "I love you, too, Brooke Davis."

The brunette slid her arms around his neck and kissed his jawline. "I've been waiting so long to tell you that," she whispered, her eyes meeting his.

Dean smiled and caressed her skin softly in his palm as she leaned her cheek towards him. "I'm glad," he replied gently - not wanting to push anything yet. He knew there was more to the story - Sam told him she had confessed her feelings, and that there was much more to her making the deal and what had happened in Hell.

But for now; he had Brooke in his arms. Just where he wanted her and where she belonged.

Those questions could wait.


	10. No Visitors, Please

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**So, I have a huge burst of inspiration so there may be a second chapter tonight or early tomorrow morning! Sorry this is short!  
**

**Here's a complete (so far) list of stories to except soon:**

**Rachel/Sam: Set in between when Dean goes to Hell. Sam, grief-stricken, tries to see if he can live a normal life again and goes to New York to study and meets the promiscuous, beautiful Rachel Gatina. Eager to fit in and wash away the hunting life, he agrees to let her show him around and finds himself falling for the redheaded beauty.**

**Brooke/Dean/Samantha/Jamie: One-shot. Easter morning. Dean/Brooke try to surprise the kids with something fun.**

**Brooke/Dean/Samantha/OC-kids: Dean is upset when Samantha has her first date. Three-shot.**

**Brooke/Dean/OC kid: Dean and Brooke were together in high school and Brooke got pregnant. After Riley was born, Brooke didn't know if she was fit to be a mom and it seemed every time she touched Riley, the baby would have a fit and reach for Dean. So, Brooke got scared and left, coming back eight years into her daughter's and Dean's life.  
**

**Chuck/Peyton: I lovelovelove Brooke/Chuck but... these two have recently caught my eye and I've developed a crush! Unknown plot. S1 for OTH.**

**Okay, onto the story! Enjoy!**

* * *

"Leftover pie, really?" Brooke asked as she looked up from where her head was, shoved into the pillow. Her eyebrow was kinked as she got up reluctantly and groaned as the sunlight hit her eyes, sliding into the seat next to Dean.

Dean grinned around a mouthful of pie. "Hell yeah!" he exclaimed, a chunk of pie falling from his mouth.

The brunette laughed softly and tiredly, taking a piece from him before he could swat her hand away. After swallowing the bite, she looked at Sam who had came back a little earlier in the morning; when he thought (hoped) they'd be asleep. Luckily enough for him, they were. "Soo, since you've forbidden me from hunting... what can I do while you losers go out and hunt those evil bitches?"

Sam chuckled. "Well, Davis, you can... clean?"

Brooke scrunched up her nose and give him an _are-you-fucking-kidding-me_ look. "Cleaning? Uhm. No thanks."

Dean smacked lightly at Brooke's hand as she reached for another slice but let her take it anyway. He smiled as she winked at him before speaking. "You could always research for us."

"But that's boring!" Brooke whined and rolled her eyes. "I could always come along and distract any horny security guard by playing that damsel-in-distress role and flashing my breasts."

"I don't like that idea," Dean announced stubbornly, shaking his head. "No."

She pouted. "Why not? You guys won't let me do anything fun!"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? I'm pretty damn sure I did las-"

Sam cut him off quickly. "I don't want to hear about your sex, thanks."

"Don't scar the child, Dean," Brooke giggled with a playful wink at Sam, patting Dean's cheek as he chewed his pie. Standing up, she gave Dean a kiss on the cheek before heading to the bathroom. "Well, I'm going to take a shower and do some boring research when I get out. Ta ta!"

* * *

Brooke sat on the bed she and Dean shared as she researched some Latin and cultural mythology books. She popped a cherry in her mouth as she highlighted a sentence in the Latin book. The motel room was quiet except the settled sound of her breathing and the birds chirping outside. She was still a little pissed she didn't get to go hunting; but she did see Dean's reasoning.

Getting up from the mattress, the brunette ran a hand through her hair as she walked around the spacious room. Her shoulder was still a little sore and her head pounded with the sickening memories of Hell, but she ignored them as best as she could. She was back, John was back, Dean was happy, Sam was happy. And if they were, then so was she. That's all that mattered to her.

Though, she still couldn't get the wonders of how she got back off her mind. She should've been stuck in Hell for the rest of her life - or at least a much, much longer tiume than she had been. Her ass had obviously been dragged out of Hell - but why? And who?

"Brookie Cookie! Good to see you made it out."

The brunette whipped around quickly as she heared the familiar, haunting voice. Her eyes were wide but they were firece; cold like ice. She stood her guard as she stared at Azazel. He was leaning against the wall opposite of her; a smug smirk on his face and his yellow eyes gleaming. Brooke took a threatening step towards him as she snatched her gun up. "What the hell are you do here?"

Azazel held his hands in fake surrender. "Whoa. No need to be feisty right now, sugar. Just checking up on you."

Brooke was annoyed by his coy and foolish behavior. "Why?"

Azazel just smiled and looked around the motel room. "Ooh, looks pretty cozy. Anyway, no big reason, pretty lady. Just wanted to see if my plan worked. Clearly, it did."

She glared at him. "What plan, you bastard?"

"Harsh words. Most people speak to me with more respect," Azazel said as he walked towards the door. "But then again, you are different, Brooke Davis."

With that, he was gone and Brooke stood there confused.

She was_ different..?_

What was his plan?


End file.
